The Queen that Roars
by Andaiis
Summary: Through a strange quirk of fate, Arturia Pendragon wakes up in the body of Cersei Lannister. The Once and Future King is not one easily cowed by the expectations of society, for she is a leader and a lion. Meanwhile, out in Essos, there are whispers of a man with hair of blood and a body of swords...
1. Chapter 1

I own none of the rights to anything from either the Type-moon universe or Game of Thrones one. The work you are about to read is original, but heavily influenced by the wonderful and countless works of fiction on this website.

This is my first fanfiction after years of lurking, and I am trying to be a better writer, so please don't be shy and give me some feedback! Observations about pacing, prose and style would be much appreciated.

* * *

The journey to the witch's abode meandered off the faint trail that hugged the border of the forests surrounding Lannisport. It was arduous, and it occurred to Cersei that just because she had heard rumours of such a being living in the forest didn't mean that there was any guarantee that they would find her.

 _But to turn back now would be to show weakness, that she was wrong._

 _Cersei Lannister was never wrong._

The other two girls of her impromptu party were already huffing lightly from the exertion, not having dressed sensibly for traipsing through the undergrowth. Jeyne Farman and Melara Hetherspoon were sheep as far as Cersei was concerned, useful sheep, but only good as followers nonetheless. Still, she was ever so slightly comforted that they were here beside her, as the forest grew denser with every passing step.

 _She was not afraid._

She repeated that thought like a mantra. Not fright then- possibly excitement? As the daughter of the formidable Warden of the West Tywin Lannister, she was well aware of her station in life. A powerful political asset, she was to be married off to whomever her father pleased. As such, before such a thing would take place, she wanted to ensure that her future was one that lay in concordance with her expectations, and not one of misery and unhappiness.

Not that the thought of marriage disgusted her- her thought flickered briefly to the Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, with his elegant features, silver hair and deep soulful amethyst eyes. Having seen him at court on previous occasions, she could not help agree with the giggling and whispers of the small folk of how he was as homely as they came.

 _But Jaime though…_

"I… I think I see it."

Her thoughts about her brother were interrupted by the hesitant call out by Melara. Indeed, ahead in the shadow of the surrounding trees, a ramshackle hut sat in a small clearing.

"Are.. are those animal bones?" gasped Jeyne shrilly, her already pale complexion whitening even further.

Crude totems of feathers, bone and wood decorated the outside of the hut, and the frightened girl muttered some apology to Cersei of being unwilling to continue this adventure.

Cersei paid her no mind. She wanted, no needed to know what the future had in hold for her, and how she could best plan for it. Striding with determination ahead, with Melara hesitantly following behind her, she strode forth.

* * *

Cersei grimaced as the twisted horrible thing the witch called a knife cut deeply into the silken pad of her thumb. Dark red blood welled up from the cut, and she resisted the urge to pull away and tend to the wound. Crying was for lesser folk, and as a lion of house Lannister, she merely set her mouth in a grimace.

The wizened old hag met her defiant eyes, something that could be called respect glimmering within. Afterall, when compared to her companion, Cersei cut a striking figure. 13 years old, well into the bloom of womanhood, she was already a great beauty, but also one of strong character, as she stood there, clad in crimson, the same crimson that now carelessly dripped onto the dirt floor from within her tightly clenched fists, demanding answers.

 _It was always the same with this lot_ , Maggy mused. Despite her many talents, her poultices and deep bushlore, all the young and ambitious wanted most from her were portents of their future. Rarely however were they pleased by what Maggy said, and it was for this that Maggy had denied everyone who had come to her. That is, until this young Lioness, for Lannisters were not to be denied lightly.

Turning her back on the pair of girls, she cast her eyes over her messy abode. Herbs hung out from the rafters, vials of potions brewed during auspicious nights, rusting cauldrons, baubles and trinkets… her eyes lingered over possibly her most valuable possession, a sword rusted beyond repair but with an ornate hilt of azure and faded gold. She would have to remember to conceal it somewhere better, for she had found it whilst scouring one of the ruins that littered the seven kingdoms, and the next time she had unwanted visitors it may catch their eyes, and this was one trinket that was not for sale.

 _There._ She lifted the copper brazier, and lit it with experienced ease before shaking off the blood into the flames with a single deft movement. The flames crackled and briefly turned red.

"You have three questions. No more, so choose your words wisely young'un" she announced to her guests.

"When will I wed the Prince?" Cersei uttered, with the surety of one who had already decided that yes, marrying the Prince was already a bygone conclusion, and only the date would matter. She was therefore taken aback when the hag snorted with amusement.

"Never. You will wed the King."

Her mind raced, before coming to the conclusion that a King was better than a Prince. The Prince's father was after all not a picture of good health, and Cersei had eavesdropped and heard whispers that his mental state was deteriorating. He clearly was not long for this world. Another thought occurred to her.

" _I will be Queen though_?"

" _Aye. Queen you shall be… until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear_ " replied the hag.

She frowned. She was young and her beauty was already talked about through the seven kingdoms, with suitors petitioning her father daily. So to think that there was a possible rival in her future… not that it mattered. After all, this was the very knowledge she had come to seek, and now that she knew it was a possibility, she would be able to take steps to _remove_ such a person in the future. As for her future husband…

" _Will the King and I have children_?"

Again, the hag snorted in amusement, and Cersei struggled to suppress the rage that bloomed in her chest, at receiving such insolence and disrespect from so lowly a woman. It was lucky for her that she was needed for now, else she would have struck her, and come back later with her guards to tear her wizened tongue out from her mouth.

" _Oh, aye. Six-and-ten for him, and three for you. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds. And when your tears have drowned you, the valonqar shall wrap his hands around about your pale white throat and choke the light out of you."_

Cersei reacted as if she had been struck. Whilst she was never the most studious of children, as a member of house Lannister her education had been board, ranging from sewing, dancing, horse riding and languages- including high Valyrian.

 _Valonqar. I knew it. That foul little wretched beast!_

She envisioned Tyrion wrapping his stubby hands to choke her, and the image sickened her with both disgust and revulsion. However, she was also elated to picture the reverse, as well as the satisfaction that her feelings about the little monster were right. It, for she refused to consider that thing a brother, would have to die. Jaime would have to be convinced of course, but…

" _Last question, little lioness. Hurry before the fire fades. Wouldn't want to cut your pretty skin a second time."_

" _My brother. Jaime. He is my most precious person. Will he always lov-"_

She glanced quickly to her side. Luckily, Melara had not noticed her misstep, but non the less she rephrased the question. After the last time father had caught the two of them experimenting in Jaime's bedroom, it would not do to not be careful about her closer than appropriate relationship with her brother. She rephrased the question.

" _Will my brother Jaime always be by my side?"_

At this, the hag gave out a deafening cackle, full of malice and satisfaction.

" _Your poor fool of a brother Jaime. Yes, he is already yours, poisoned by your wiles. There will be times where he will get away, but like a dog leashed to it's master, you will always drag him back into your den. He will be with you until the end, and the last thing your see in this world will be his face, eyes glaring with hatred and murderous intent at the cause of his misery."_

* * *

Melara was a pretty girl, with long auburn hair and a cute freckled face. Many would consider her somewhat of a dreamer, but also one of a somewhat vapid nature. She was one to always explore and go on adventures, imagining encounters with handsome knights, and ferocious monsters, and thus was elated when Cersei suggested on visiting a wood witch.

She was regretting that decision now. Melara might have been not fully paying attention, having been distracted by the wonderful assortment of trinkets and baubles that decorated the witch's tent, but even she sensed that the situation had changed. Cersei had always been irrationally angry about anything that would come between Jamie and her, and for the Witch to say that such a thing would come to pass…

Cersei sat stone faced for a moment, absorbing the information. Then her still visage shattered and with a great yowl, she launched herself at the witch, intent on putting an end to the cackling permanently. Melara gave a cry as the brazier fell over, and almost immediately the flames sprang up the the wooden walls, hungrily climbing and spreading.

The witch gave a shocked gasp, and attempted to defend herself but she was old and wizened, and Cersei was young, strong and filled with burning rage and indignation.

 _How dare she! Jaime and I are meant to be together. I love him and he will always love me!_

She took a quick scan of the room. Grabbing onto the ornate sword, she brought it crashing down inexpertly on the blaspheming witch's huddled form. Even rusted, and wielded by one who had never picked up a sword before this day, the sword cut deep.

The witch gave an agonising cry, her hands raised and begging for mercy but it was not meant to be. Rusted metal split the old woman like a fleshy carcass, and great gouts of burgundy blood splattered everywhere. Cersei hacked away like a woman possessed, and as the blade drank deep of the wood witch's magical blood, thin as it was, something awoke within the sword.

* * *

 _ERROR_

 _CURRENT WIELDER IS NOT WORTHY._

 _SWORD DESIGNATION CALIBURN_

 _STATUS: WIELDER NOT SELECTED_

 _ONLY ONE SELECTED CAN WIELD CALIBURN_

 _PROPOSED SOLUTION: REPLACE WIELDER WITH CHOSEN ONE_

 _IMPLEMENTING_

* * *

Artoria Pendragon, King of Knights, the once and future King, and more recently the one designated as Saber, sighed. Once again, the thought flickered across her mind that she should have not been so quick to offer her services as a heroic spirit to the world after the disaster that was the battle of Camlann.

Here, in the mini world that was her refuge and prison whenever she was not summoned, there was nothing to do. Sure, it was picturesque up here on a lonely knoll, overseeing the vast green fields, but such a sight would get old over the countless years she had spent in here.

No one to converse with. Nothing to eat. It was a lonely existence.

 _If only Shirou was here._

A melancholic smile graced the face of Artoria.

 _Shirou Emiya. I'm glad to have met you. I… I wish there was a way to see you again_

He had confessed to her in the closing days of the mess that was the Grail War, and she, against all reason and thoughts of duty and propriety, had felt the same way. Alas, their relationship was limited, and as ferocious and passionate as it was, it was now a moot point. Separated by time, dimensions and God knows what else, it was a tragic romance that was never meant to be.

She felt a little better. Memories of Shirou's wonderful cooking, of nights spent watching over him, fighting beside him, and of sliding skin and blazing golden eyes… She flushed, as if chastising herself for dwelling of happy memories.

 _Even so, what is this feeling? I feel like I'm floating._

She shuddered with a jolt. Something had changed, in the never changing fields of this dimensional bubble. She gave a small exclamation of surprise as she somehow suddenly became to float. Too little time had passed for her to be summoned again, and there was no command from the World for her to fulfil her duties.

 _LOCATED. THE SWORD OF SELECTION CALLS TO YOU_

"Caliburn? How? What is going on?"

The feeling in her chest was almost painful now, and with one last cry of surprise, Saber was pulled into the unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

The Queen that Roars- Chapter 2

Thanks for all the lovely reviews and sorry about the wait! Took a bit longer than expected, for I failed to realise the consequences plot wise of essentially replacing the arguably most morally corrupt character from Game of Thrones. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

There had been a pact made, when the brothers had grown to realise the sheer ineptitude and disgrace that their father was making of their house. And so, it came to be that the four held it between them that at least one of them would be at Casterly Rock to keep things running in a respectable order.

 _Seven hells, just my luck that the latest crisis landed on my lap._

Gerion Lannister was considered, and in turn would consider himself a generally cheerful and amiable fellow. However, whenever he was at his historical home even his smile would become ever so wooden. He was never one for administrating or to dabble in the intrigues of court, for he yearned for adventure and excitement across the glittering sea in foreign lands. Even now, memories of his adventures in Essos would cross his mind like a siren's call.

 _Plus, I don't need the constant sight of my ridiculous father prancing around with my nursemaid of all people._

Nevertheless, he did his duty when necessary and thus when he was notified that there was smoke and talks of a forest fire occurring in the forests around Lannisport, and that somehow his hellion of a niece was involved, he quickly put together an escort and saddled up to ride to extricate her from whatever mess she had decided to involve herself in this time. Afterall, even though he did not like Cersei as much as her siblings (especially what with her cruel and harsh treatment of Tyrion), family was family.

Which was why now, with a uncharastically grim face he bore witness to the devastated patch of forest that apparently Cersei was still in. Resisting the urge to cough from the sooten ash and smoke, he strained his ears for any signs of life.

Only the crackle and crunch of dying embers on skeletal foliage greeted him.

 _Cersei you silly girl, what have you done now?_

He dismounted, his feet crunching the desiccated forest floor, and began his search.

* * *

 _Cersei twisted uncomfortably in her unconsciousness. Her psyche, already vulnerable from her breakdown, was in no state of mind to accept this torrent and flood of memories and something more._

 _Vague memories, of a distant time in a distant land._

 _Of a shining sword, and the roars and exultation of cheering people. Her people._

 _Of Knights, comrades in arms, seated around a magnificent round table._

 _Of loss, betrayal, killing, despair, death, and forbidden deals._

 _Of the restlessness, regret, pity and self-hatred that followed her even after death, in a purgatory where the land was verdant, and the sky bright blue, yet lacked any trace of life apart from her._

 _Of the aching loneliness that pressed itself against her back like an unseen companion._

 _Of even more battles, over a shining grail, that promised salvation that was so near yet never within her reach._

 _She screamed, as the memories and recriminations of years, centuries even seeped into her very being. A constant torrent of bittersweet memories and melancholic sadness that seemed to crush her very being. The small part of her that still had enough self- awareness wondered who's memories these were, and how they managed to live through this?_

 _And then, something else- vivid, and seemingly more recent memories._

 _Again more of the same, and yet, for the first time in what seemed like a long time, hope._

 _Laughing, smiles, a boy with vivid red hair and kind eyes, of memories that she would always cherish._

 _Of late night conversations, and the lightness of a soul who had found someone they had resonated with like they had never before._

 _And of a promise, to see each other again._

 _Unbidden, she calmed and a smile graced her lips._

 _The small part that was still Cersei couldn't help but share this joy, the young spoilt noble lady being in accord with the being that had been funnelled into her mind._

 _Cersei's consciousness scattered gently, melding with this new aspect that was now in control of her body._

 _And Arturia awoke._

Emerald green eyes flickered open with a start. She had been…

Immediately a blinding pain flashed in her head. Fighting through it, she pushed herself up clumsily against the headboard of the richly decorated bed she was in.

She definitely wasn't in Avalon anymore. Red and gold decorations hung almost garishly around the spacious bedroom she was in. Furthermore, this wasn't her body!

And yet, paradoxically, it was. Slowly the memories came back to her.

Her name was Cersei Lannister of House Lannister, daughter to Tywin Lannister.

But she was Arturia Pendragon, heir to Uther, and foster daughter to Sir Ector.

Again, the pain struck, and this time she attempted to soothe it with her hand, only to find it already occupied, clutching something with a death grip.

 _Caliburn?_

Elation and confusion. Caliburn had been destroyed, and yet she would know the sword that was at her side for most of her life. Whilst Excalibur was indeed her most powerful weapon, Caliburn had a greater place in her heart, for it was the Sword that chose and set her on her path to Kingship. When it was broken in duel, she had been despondent for days, before Merlin had guided her to the Lady of the Lake for a replacement.

 _So why was it here? Did Merlin gather the pieces? But even so, why here and why now?_

 _And where was here exactly?_ _What on earth was going on?_

Unlike the grail summonings which she had been subjected to many a times in the past, there was no influx of information to fill her in on her situation. In fact, to call it a summoning would be a gross inaccuracy, for she had not been summoned as herself, but apparently into someone. Even though a tiny part of her mind comforted her, telling her this scene was familiar for it was her bedroom, she was left with far more questions than answers.

Gritting her teeth, she extricated herself from the crimson silken sheets, determined to fill herself in, only to promptly fall as she attempted to rise.

First, she had to get used to this unfamiliar body.

* * *

The clattering from the next room immediately roused him from his uneasy sleep. Eyelids snapped open, and he clambered out of bed in haste, with only thoughts of his sister on his mind.

 _Cersei. She was awake!_

His twin, his other half, was finally up and about. When his uncle had come back, carrying Cersei, his anguish at seeing her unconscious body pierced his entire body like a lightning bolt. She had seemed so small, fragile and vulnerable, in comparison to her usual vivacious self. The maester had been called, and yet as the hours passed they failed to see why she would not wake.

Even more curious was the fact that she had arrived unconscious with a sword grasped in her hand. An exquisite sword, that whilst not having the tell-tale pattern of Valyrian swords, was non-the less no doubt a magnificent blade that any Knight would be proud to wield. Jaime was surprised at this, for Cersei had never before shown any interest in such things.

 _Pointy sticks she called it. But even now she held it in a vice like grip._

All attempts to separate it from her ended inexplicably in failure, for she held onto it with an uncanny strength, and so, with nothing else to be done, she was settled in her bedroom, with the maester assuring all that all she needed was rest before she woke.

At first, he kept a restless vigil at her bedside, holding her hand, hoping that she would soon wake and then they could be a family again. Yet, as the hours passed, and then into days, Jaime stormed off in search of answers. He had cornered Melara, one of Cersei's companions, and through a stuttered and panicked explanation he had listened attentively to the circumstances that came to befell her.

The story was ridiculous, and to him made not much sense, but even so Jaime could not help but curse Cersei's actions. Still, even he was not blind to his sister's flaws, and the rash actions she had undertook without thought rung with a familiarity that Jaime. He had gasped when Melara recounted shakily of the conflagration that enveloped the shack, and of how despite her best efforts to extricate Cersei she had failed.

He had wanted to curse, or even hit her then, to blame her for the current state that his sister was in. But then, he had puzzled, for Cersei had not come in with any burns of any sort, apart from the stench of smoke that had clung to her dress and frame. Returning his gaze to his interrogee, he saw that her left arm was heavily bandaged, and the scent of medicinal ointments and poultices hung around her piteous state.

His gaze softened. Whilst he no doubt would have done the same, this young girl had still attempted something that even grown men would have hesitated to do, braving the inferno to help someone. Jaime had seen first-hand how terrifying a fire out of control can be, when a bakery in Lannisport had unexpectedly set ablaze during an incredibly dry and hot summer. The flames had lashed out like they were alive, and the screams of panicked townsfolk and even worse, the sound of the unfortunate baker and his family being burnt alive even now stayed with him in his memories.

This young slip of a girl, a woman had done her best. All for his sister, who was apparently responsible for the situation in the first place.

Gratitude flooded his heart, and without thinking he embraced Melara who had taken his harsh approach and subsequent silence for anger and was fighting hard to fight back tears.

"Thank you. Thank you for being there for my sister and doing your best."

She had immediately flushed red, and him too for he realised the breach in formality. Quickly jumping back, the children shyly went their separate ways, but not before exchanging the assurance that Cersei would soon wake, hale and hearty as ever before, for if she had somehow managed to survive the fire miraculously unscathed (that even now, the smoke of which hung over the forest like a black mist, visible even from the sills of Casterly Rock), she would now doubt recover soon.

That had been 3 moons ago.

The maesters and servants did all they could, changing her sheets daily, sponging her pale forehead, and carefully pouring broth into her delicate mouth. Jaime's heart relapsed into growing discontent and anxiousness, but non-the-less he held on desperately to the belief that all would be well soon, for if he did not he shuddered to think of the alternative.

But of course, none of that mattered now! He pushed open the door, and rushed to do the same to hers. Soon, they would be reunited, eyes meeting, and he would embrace her tightly, looking into those emerald eyes they both shared, her sweet voice calling his name, and they mayhap she would kiss him and then –

As he tore opened the door, he was indeed met with his beloved sister. Yet there was no embrace, no heartfelt reunion of siblings. Eyes of green, yet oddly luminescent, sparkling with surprise and also of trepidation met his, and his movement abruptly halted, for there was a sword, _that sword_ , held unerringly with the point at his throat.

"I ask you. Who are you, and what do you think you are doing?"

An icy trill of horror screamed in Jaime's head.

"Cer- Cersei? It's me, your brother Jaime? Are you well?"

He watched as a myriad of emotions flashed across her face. Some familiar, that of recognition, understanding, love, but also that of fear, anxiety and also disgust of all things. Her face, that was no doubt hers and so familiar, suddenly seemed so strange to him.

"Cersei? You've been unwell and out for five days. We've been worried, I- I've been worried."

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! Did she truly not recognise him? Her own brother? He took a resolute step forward, disregarding the blade, hoping to touch her, to shake her back into her own self.

She stumbled back all of a sudden, and the sword, that even he a knight in training would have struggled to hold aloft with one hand steady, dropped from shaky fingers. He rushed forward as she fell, cushioning her body with his as they tumbled gracelessly to the floor.

Glowing eyes hesitantly met his, and he was reassured this time by the solid recognition in her eyes.

"Jaime?"

"Cersei. It's okay, I'm here now."

He soothingly ran his hand across her back as she lapsed back into unconsciousness. Things would be alright soon. Things would soon be back the way they were.

Even as he thought those words, a small part of his mind told him that things would never be the same again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

It was odd, the way one's senses become numb, and all stimuli fades unnoticed into the background when one became accustomed to their fate. True, Avalon was undeniably gorgeous, but the countless centuries she had spent there had long dulled whatever charms it may have had.

As she stood there in the tower, with the salty breeze playing with her hair, and the roar of the ocean bellowing from below, it occurred to her, that for the first time in a long time, she was truly free. Free from the burdens of Kingship, free from the pact made with Gaia, free of all responsibilities of her former life.

She didn't quite know how to feel.

Even with the memories and emotional markers of the girl who came before, there were issues when it came to reconciliating the two. A small part of her even now felt guilty at the unexpected possession, but she justified it with the knowledge that if not for that Cersei would have been fated to die that day.

In a way, she did, but regardless, the stones were now cast, and the best thing she could do now as live her new life the best she could.

 _A faint sense of approval rang in the back of her mind._

Her family and servants were still under the assumption that the malady that had befell her had caused some form of temporary amnesia which was responsible for her uncharacteristic behaviours. In contrast to before, she knew she was perceived as being more quiet, solemn and somewhat eccentric, eschewing the fine corsets and dresses in favour of loose shirts and riding leathers. Whilst her prior life had given her the skills to maintain the decorum expected of nobility, she had had to remind herself more than once that she was no longer pretending to be a man, and that instead she was free to express her femininity- (something that ironically, she was quite bad at).

"My lady? Dinner has been served and Lord Tytos requests your presence."

She was shaken out of her musings by the summons of the demure serving lady. Another thing that was needed further reflection on. By all accounts, her martial experience and prowess should have meant that she would have been aware of the approach of another's presence, and yet for some reason she remained ignorant and was surprised. A warrior's mind she may have, but this new body paled in comparison. The dragon's core, that was the source of most of her strength, was not present, and for the first time in her life the most trivial of things, such as climbing the stairs to the tower ramparts would leave her feeling somewhat exhausted.

She had not yet had the time to evaluate her sword skills. It was abundantly clear that in this new world, women for the most part were not expected to fight, which wasn't very far away at all from the medieval Britain she once called home.

Idly the thought came that she could once again pretend to be a man and fight, which she mentally waved away with an exhale of amusement. For one thing, although despite being far from maturity this body was far more gifted, which would make binding an even more torturous process.

 _She no longer needed to fight._

There was no destiny to chase, no duty to fulfil, and no immediate threats or enemies to combat. She had been fighting, fighting for so long, and now that she was finally free, why should she dwell on the fight any longer? Could she not enjoy this for what it is? A new life, a new childhood, and an opportunity to grow unmasked as her own woman?

"Lead the way, I'll be right down."

* * *

Before the ill-fated Tarbeck-Reyne revolt, the dining hall of Casterly Rock would have been awash with serving serfs and nobles, bickering and feasting in decadent revelry, with all being exposed to the gluttony and weakness of their liege lord. Growing bold, many would use the opportunity to extract favours and settle arguments, almost always to the detriment of House Lannister. "Twisting the Lion's tail" they would call it.

After his brother's measures however, it was held that dinner was to be a closed affair, and for the Lord's court to be held during the day (under careful supervision). After all, if they couldn't change their father's ways, the next best thing was to limit exposure.

Dinner was generally a quiet affair, with all available Lannisters in attendance, superficially to reinforce family bonds. Still it was expected, even if Gerion had to hide his displeasure when Tytos brought his paramour with him.

Today however, he had to carefully hide his smile behind the goblet of wine. Whilst his father was well known for his gluttony (amongst other things), unexpectedly it was his dear niece that today was somehow taking advantage of the feast of roast boar, steamed fish and other victuals.

Jaime watched in shocked awe as his sister seemingly demolished plates upon plates. In contrast to Tytos's shoddy table manners that resulted in stained fingers and clothing, Cersei seemed the very picture of nobility, daintily picking apart the dishes with precision. No, it wasn't the table manners, but the sheer speed that Cersei put away the food, seemingly like magic.

"I see your appetite has recovered most splendidly, dear niece" he drawled out, tinged with amusement that grew as the girl blushed, seemingly broken out of her feasting.

"Ah- yes, the chefs have quite outdone themselves this time, the food is quite delicious!" reinforcing her statement, she put away another plate to the side, spotless in favour this time of a plump pigeon pie.

A shrill grating laughter rang out and Gerion ruthlessly supressed a wince at the unwelcome reminder of the presence of Lucinda Hill, his father's lowborn lover, who really had no right to be there.

"Be careful there girl, eating that much food is an unsightly sight indeed!"

Jaime flushed hotly and was just about to speak up at the disrespect and insult, but Gerion gestured for him to settle down. Cersei could be called many things, but toothless she was not, and he was eager to see how she would address this petty remark, especially after the incident.

Elegantly dabbing away the crumbs around her mouth with a cloth napkin, she shot a withering glare at the head of the table, where Lucinda and Tytos has between the two of them already put away close to three flagons of wine.

"You forget yourself, my "lady". It seems the very height of irony to me that whilst you gorge yourself on my family's food and wine, you seek to reproach me for eating and recovering my strength. Indeed, I must confess my confusion at your very presence, for I was under the impression that this was a family dinner, and one not for lowborn riff raff such as yourself."

This time, it was Lucinda that flushed, an ugly red that spread across her plump jowls like a rash.

"Listen here, I am a guest of your father, the lord of Ca-"

"You are a up jumped bed warmer who has forgotten their place. Besides, the halls of Casterly Rock are too good for you, who resembles a painted pig in a frock. On second thoughts, comparing you to a pig would be an insult to them!"

Gerion almost choked on his wine at this remark and besides him Jaime and Tyrion watched the ongoing verbal scuffle with ill-disguised glee.

"Tytos! Do something! Are you really going to let her speak to me this way?"

The aging Lion patriarch looked around with bulging eyes, and struggled to swallow as he tried to formulate a response.

"Now, now ladies, settle down, there is no reason to spoil this feast with such disquieting words. Cersei, I'm sure that Lucinda meant no offence and if you were to but apolo-"

"You're telling me to apologise? For what? For her breach of decorum? For her insulting not only me, but our family, and by extension you? Grandfather, you cannot be this wilfully blind!"

Tytos shifted uncomfortably on his cushioned seat, that all of a sudden seemed too small and hard. Looking around the table for support, he was disheartened to see nothing but hard faces. He hated conflict like this, but it seemed that this issue was not going away.

"I understand that tempers are running high, but Lucinda here has my full confidence and should be afforded all the respect due to her as my guest. Now I expect you to both apologise to each other, so that we can put this sorry business behind us. What say you?"

In a nasal pitch that dripped with insincerity, the corpulent woman apologised for any offence called, and Tytos nodded with satisfaction, before turning expectantly to Cersei.

"Well?"

Cersei rose smoothly. Her hands were pale and clenched, shaking.

"You speak of respect. Yet by not only tolerating her actions, but also by defending her, you disrespect not only yourself but our entire family. You allow her to tramp around our ancestral home, helping herself to grandmother's clothing and jewellery. You allow her to command our servants, like she is one of us. And now, you allow her to disrespect your family, and flaunt her perceived power! So no, _grandfather_ , I will not apologise, because I have shown her all the respect she deserves! If anything, you have lost any respect I have left for you."

Her words echoed in the room that suddenly seemed too quiet. Enacting a mocking courtesy, Cersei quickly fled the room whilst everyone else was still shocked by the sudden outburst. As the doors closed with a deafening slam, a hubbub of activity and noise quickly rose to fill the silence, most prominent of the harridan screeching at a shaken Tytos.

"How dare that girl do this! Tytos you need to-"

"Enough." Gerion's voice rang true and hard across the table. Turning to his nephews, he beckoned them close.

"Go to your sister. Such an outburst, whilst not totally unexpected was most out of character for her, and I fear that even now she has not fully recovered. Yes, that includes you Tyrion. I know you have just cause to dislike her, but can you not say that ever since her accident she has not once given you cause to distress? She's a strong girl but I fear she is in a most vexed state and needs comforting."

He was proud to witness resolute nods from the two boys, and shooed them into the hallway before turning around.

"As for you father, I fear this is a conversation that has long time been coming. Shall we retire to your solar?"

* * *

Cersei fled though the corridors, holding back emotions that seemed too strange and fit to burst. She had lost control, in a most spectacular fashion.

 _How could this happen?_

She had always prided herself on her iron wrought control of emotions. During her days at Camelot, such a thing was a necessity, and the mask she wore then gave nothing away.

 _So what happened now?_

The dinner had started off well, and she had luxuriated in the feast. Food was always her weakness, and whilst not as delicious Shirou's cooking, nonetheless she partook in it with great pleasure. Lucinda's slight was unwelcome, but she was used to such things at court, and putting on her disdainful noble mask almost came as second nature.

 _So why did it slip?_

 _Was she losing control?_

 _And why was she on the verge of crying?_

The thoughts and emotions came thick and cloying, and she wanted to scream. There was too much going on, and for the first time in her life, there was no path to take, no goal to aim for, no creed to hold by.

 _Was this what freedom was?_

She wanted to scream out of frustration. All of a sudden, everything seemed too complex, and she felt utterly lost.

"Cersei?"

She whirled around, eyes wide to behold her brothers, caution evident in their gaze.

"Are you alright Cersei? You ran out so quickly and Uncle Gerion thought that you might need some help."

 _Her brothers. But they weren't really her brothers, were they? She was an imposter, wearing their sister's body like a loose fitting gown. She was alone, in a foreign land, surrounded by strangers._

Just as her mind was winding itself into another frenzy of panic, she froze as Jaime gently embraced her.

"You too Tyrion! Come on over!"

The little Lannister, not yet past six namedays, tentatively approached, and his arms awkwardly embraced Cersei as well.

"It's okay" Jaime murmured. "I'm not quite sure what you're feeling right now, but what you did in the dining hall was awesome."

Tyrion murmured his approval as well, and Cersei could not help but let out a shuddering giggle. The chaos in her mind retreated, and all sudden, things seemed simpler.

"She deserved it. They both do."

Tyrion piped up: "Did you see how red she turned? She was crimson! Like a big red grape!"

"She might as well have been, when you consider how much wine she drinks on a daily basis!"

At this they all laughed, and for the first time it seemed to Cersei that she has a family in this world.

"You do realise you are in big trouble after that though? Lucinda won't let this go and as long as she has grandfather's favour she won't be going anywhere."

Cersei just embraced them tighter, the physical sensation of her siblings anchoring her to this reality.

"Let her do what she wants. You're right, I haven't exactly been feeling the same as before the accident, and there is something I need to tell you, but not now. Thanks for coming after me."

"Well I for one prefer the new you! You're much nicer to me" said Tyrion shyly, only to shrink as Jaime looked at him in reproach.

Cersei shook her head. "No you're quite right. I haven't apologised yet for how I treated you before have I? I promise, I'll no longer be like that to you ever again. You two are my brothers and I am your sister, and we will all stick together."

The look of hope that flashed in Tyrion's mismatched eyes, and the look of approval in Jaime's reinforced that this was the right thing to do. Her heart lurched, in both acceptance and satisfaction. Shaking both of them off, she discretely wiped away her tears.

"I've got something else I want to show you. Come let us go to the training yard."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this Cersei? You do realise I've already started training right?"

"What's the matter Jaime? Don't tell me you're scared of your big sister?", she teased, with a smile on her face.

Jaime shrugged, and the two circled each other, training blades in hand whilst Tyrion watched from the side line. She called out to him:

"Tyrion, you're the one calling out hits, okay?"

"Okay Cersei!"

Seeing at how reluctant Jaime was to take action against her, Cersei took the first move. The blunted blade whistled through the air and Cersei could not help but take glee in the look of surprise in his face as he was caught off-guard, clumsily parrying as he backed away.

She pressed the advantage, blade slashing expertly through the air. In truth, she was frustrated, for whilst her technique and memory was all there, her body was lacking physically and her blows lacked the strength and speed she was accustomed to.

Regardless, despite her diminished state, she was still more than a match for her brother, as talented as he was. Feinting with a slash, she pirouetted backwards, and baiting out an attack of his own, she lunged, blunt blade batting away his blade's point.

"Point to Cersei!" Tyrion was almost reverent in his calling, so unexpected were the results.

Jaime's eyes narrowed. "You got lucky that's all!"

She almost snorted, at how childish it was, before remembering that they were all technically children. "Best of three then?"

He answered with a challenging grin. "I don't know how you're so good, but I won't lose to you!"

As the thwack of blunted blades rang mutely across the courtyard, smiles adorned all the Lannister children's faces, and for the first time in this new life, Saber, no Cersei, felt like she was having fun.

* * *

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. Maybe I just wasn't in the state of mind when writing this. Either way, please let me know how you went, and if it's bad as i fear I may have to redo this. Again thanks for all the kind reviews, I treasure every single one of them. Next chapter I promise things will start moving along plot wise. Many thanks, Andaii


	4. Chapter 4

The Lion that Roars – Chapter 4- Interlude

 **Sneaks back in. Blows dust and debris of typewriter. Fate and Got still don't belong to me. Enjoy!**

 _Pink and gold was the sunrise that dawn. The tranquillity of the area stood in stark contrast to their surroundings. No doubt Ryuudou temple would have to be closed for refurbishment and repair after the earlier events of the night._

 _It occurred to him, right there and then, that before him was probably the most beautiful scene he would ever witness in his life. She had let her hair loose, and the cold morning air made him want to shiver even as it played with her strands, sunlight cascading and shimmering as the golden waves fluttered in the breeze._

 _He wanted to go up to her, to embrace her from behind and hold her tight. They had fought, against insurmountable odds, and triumphed. Victory was theirs. Gilgamesh and Kirei defeated, Illya and Rin both alive and waiting. Logically, he should have been happy, exuberant! No more fighting, no more death!_

 _His frantic ruminations froze as she turned to face him, eyes downcast. A gentle smile graced her lips even as the hollow weight in his stomach seemed to balloon._

" _Shirou… I… love… you."_

 _Those words struck him like a hammer, and he had to mentally exert himself to not show a disgraceful reaction. Even now, the distance between them betrayed the bitter ironic reality of their situation. Those three sacred words, which would normally signify the start of a relationship, in their case only made him more aware._

 _He loved her too. He has said just as much that night, when she had rejected him out of duty. Any other time, he would have been jubilant. His first, in many things. First crush, first lover, first teacher, he was blessed to have summoned her as his servant. And therein lied the problem. The holy grail had been destroyed, and soon she would dematerialise, called back to the throne of heroes, far away from him._

" _I..."_

 _He couldn't say them. It seemed like a mockery, a disgraceful formality to say them back to her. Insufficient to carry the weight and complexity, the anguish of his feelings. It felt that if he were to complete the sentence, there would be a sense of finality, and that would be the end of it all. All their memories, the time they had spent together, the trials and tribulations, their hopes and dreams, laughter and joy, was it all for this? Their page, this precious page of feelings, to be turned over and closed- he couldn't bear it._

 _He looked up at her, eyes anxiously meeting hers, expecting admonishment. Of course, it was nothing of the sort. As expected of her, there was no need for it to be put into words. She had stood by him, protected him, and was probably the one person who understood him the most in this world. She tilted her head and graced him with a sad smile._

 _The breeze picked up, and he instinctively knew that their time together was coming to a close. This could very much be their last time together, and yet here he was fretting like a child. The Holy Grail war was many things, and Shirou could not help but think that his participation, involuntary or otherwise, had had the benefit of making him grow as a person, both physically and mentally. Seizing the chance, he resolutely closed the distance in several quick strides._

 _Enjoying the look of surprise on her face, he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Even now, it surprised him how petite she was, her slender frame perfectly moulded to his form, like two jig saw pieces that fit together. She responded in kind, one un-gloved hand rising to gently ruffle through his matted crimson locks._

" _Wait for me." He dimly thought that his voice had sounded weird, but he didn't care. Standing here, in her embrace, he closed his eyes and lost himself to his senses. The smell of blood and metal, and of that peculiar scent unique to her that simultaneously comforted him and electrified his very being. Her tresses tickling his face, and the softness of her skin. Her body tremored beneath him and he realised she was chuckling._

" _Of course Shirou. I'll see you again soon."_

 _It was a lie. But a comforting one that went against her normal character as a Knight, and for that Shirou was grateful and touched beyond words. Even as he went to hold her closer, he felt the sudden bloom of light around them._

 _And with that, she was gone. He fell to his knees, his heart spiralling down in heavy shudders._

The clap that echoed across the clearing came from behind had a dull, _fleshy_ quality to it.

"Now that was certainly touching. I do hope you don't hold it against for interfering earlier, for it just wouldn't seem right."

Shirou whirled around in alarm. How could it be? Kirei was most certainly dead, after all he had not only plunged the Azoth sword into his breast, but also using mana detonated it, shredding both his physical body and also his spiritual prana pathways. There was no way anyone could get up after that.

Even so, his eyes widened in alarm as his worst fears were confirmed- true the priest was in a sorrowful state, his right side trailing behind him as he dragged himself out of the shadows. His face was an ashen shade of grey, and beneath the skin something _squirmed_ disturbingly. A sanguine and black glow seemed to pulse, forming bulging bridges that crawled up his exposed neck.

"Hmm? You seem confused, son of Emiya."

Pitch black eyes bore into his with a sense of wry amusement, and the sudden flash of white teeth that came with a splitting smile made Shirou want to stagger back.

"How can you still be alive? You were dead, I confirmed it!"

"How does it feel Emiya? To know that despite all your struggles and sacrifices, at the end of the game, I have this final card to play! The look of despair and confusion in your eyes, it fills my wretched soul with joy! Still, before you die I guess I could answer your questions. You might not have known this, but during the climax of the last grail war, I was shot through the heart and killed by your father, Kiritsugu Emiya."

"That's absurd. People die when they are killed."

"Normally, that'd be the case, but through the powers of the grail, I was resurrected. My soul was dragged back from beyond the veil of death, and my both rejuvenated through the residual mana of the grail."

"But that doesn't explain now! Saber destroyed this war's grail, I witnessed it's destruction just now! There's no way you would have had the chance to repeat that trick."

"Very astute of you. There is no doubt Shirou Emiya that you are the undisputed winner of the grail war. My body has once again been inflicted with a mortal injury, and this time with the grail destroyed, there are no third chances for me. But with the grails destruction, and the expelling of the curse and of its mana, I can through my familiarity with it absorb the remnants of its energy to empower my failing form."

It was true, already Shirou could see that despite Kotomine's lucidity and mobility, his body seemed to be tearing itself apart, his skin and vestments seeming more and more like a fragile shell, cracking itself apart in an attempt to contain whatever malevolent energies fuelled him still.

"Now, I'm afraid i'm on a tight schedule and have no interest in further trading words with you. I will say this to you at the least Shirou Emiya. At first, when I saw your inexperienced self stumble into my church, I must admit I was sorely disappointed. I may _hate_ Kiritsugu Emiya with all my being, but at the very least I respected the man, as both a master and a magus killer. Yet here we stand, the last two masters of this war! I have sorely underestimated your growth, this I gladly admit. But now the final curtains are drawing to a close. Heed me spawn of Emiya! You may have won the Grail War, but there is still one last battle, right here and right now! With this last clash, you will fall to true despair! _**ANGRA MAINYU- GO FORTH AND CONSUME MY ENEMY"**_

Lurching unnaturally, Kirei aimed both arms at Shirou. A torrent of black and crimson energy jetted forth, with an intensity that blew both of his hands physically off his body, before being consumed.

Heart pounding, Shirou realised that the attack, whilst of the same type as the ones he had suffered earlier on that night, was of several magnitudes higher in intensity. Already, he could feel the cold sweat beading on his nape, as the screams and painful wailing that came from the curse started roaring in his ears as it's approach. He instinctively knew that this time, if it were to entrap him like earlier, there would be little hope of survival, especially with Saber no longer here.

" _ **TRACE ON- AVALON!"**_

Almost immediately he had to bite back a scream as the cost of projecting made itself known through his overtaxed magic circuits. Non the less, the scabbard appeared in a flash in front of him, exuding golden light that acted as a bastion to check the torrent of curses headed for him. His hair blowing back from the clash, he gritted his teeth for what seemed like hours, as Kotomine's attack seemed to pour forth relentlessly. Eventually however, the attack stopped, and Shirou could not help but collapse on one knee, taking advantage of the temporary respite.

"It seems we have ourselves a stale mate. No, that's incorrect, If this were to continue, my body would expire before yours."

It was true, though Shirou was on one knee, there was no doubt that the one who physically suffered more from the exchange was Kotomine. One of his arms ended at the elbow in a ragged stump, and a unhealthy looking black ooze seeped from both his mouth and the cracks in his skin.

"So why don't you just give up? If that's the case, can't you leave me alone and go die somewhere else?"

Kotomine started to laugh, only to be interrupted by a hacking cough. Something red and partially solid was spat from his lips.

"Now now, I still have some measure of pride. Avalon may be an immovable impenetrable defence, but don't think I'm out of ideas. Yes… this may work still. If you can't be moved, than it stands to reason that I just have to move the space around you!"

"What are you talking about?"

Kotomine leaned down, and using his teeth, bit and pulled one of his arms up. If it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation, and the spray of black liquid from one of the veins on his neck, some may have considered the situation absurd. With another yank of teeth, he successfully managed to drag up the ruined sleeves, revealing a line of crimson command seals.

"By the power of my command seals, I call forth my servant, to fight at my side!"

Shirou looked on aghast, as more than half of the seals seemingly exploded in black light. More than that, he was struck speechless as something did materialise behind Kotomine.

"I wasn't sure this would work to be honest. However, it seems like the fact that Archer bathed himself in the mud of the grail as well, as well as my surplus of command seals, worked together for my final move."

There was no doubt that it was Gilgamesh standing behind him. The strongest hero of the war, no possibly the strongest in the entire throne of heroes had made his return. Dull crimson eyes stared blankly ahead, and his skin and armour was covered with squirming black filth, but there was no doubt. Pre-emptively Shirou readied himself to wield Avalon once more, not entirely sure that he would be able to survive the next attack. His only consolation was that Kotomine was not lying about this being his final action. The priest was on his knees, more dead than alive, hacking up more and more spurts of fluid and innards.

"With the rest of my command seals, I command you my servant! _**OPEN UP THE GATES OF BABYLON AND TAKE THAT BOY WITHIN ITS DEPTHS!"**_

Purple and flickering with a ghostly quality, one massive gate materialised around Shirou, entrapping him within its centre. With a resounding clang, the gate opened, and Shirou could see inside the legendary armoury of Gilgamesh. Countless swords, weapons, trinkets and goods, brimming across the horizon of his vision. Not only that, however, but the gates were contaminated, perhaps because of the way its master was summoned. More of Angra Mainyu's living curse contaminated within the gate, writhing about and wailing.

" _ **AVALON"**_

It was no use. Once again the scabbard blazed forth golden light, that formed an impenetrable shield around Shirou, but the face of the gate was too vast, and the doors started to close, with Shirou at the centre. He realised, with the clarity of one too close to their own demise, that there was no escape. Avalon could only be maintained by him whilst stationary, and doing so would mean he would be swallowed up by the gate. Dispelling Avalon would give him the chance to run for it, but that would mean he would immediately be swallowed up by the curse that poured forth.

"Do you see Emiya? It's my victory after all! Even I don't know what will befall you once you're in the gate! No doubt Archer would dispel once I pass, but what then? Trapped within a dematerialised gate, corrupted by the world's hatred! Will you suffocate and succumb to the curses? Or merely remain imprisoned forever, in a gilded prison to starve away? Truly a magnificent demise!"

Shirou wanted to reply, to say something in retort. To make one last verbal outburst, one last sign to the world that he was there, still fighting. But the strain of Avalon was so that his entire body felt like it was fire, and his jaw was clenched closed.

The gate lowered, and the doors swung close with a resounding clang. One last flicker, and the gates blinked out of reality, followed shortly by their master.

Kotomine rolled so that his face was facing the sky. Already, his body was turning gray, cracking away into dust. A satisfied smile on his face, he whispered

"Looks like it's my win, Emiya."

There was no reply.


End file.
